


Prompts and Such

by vivalaegghead



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 07:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17845331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivalaegghead/pseuds/vivalaegghead
Summary: This is a prompt dump from things that I have previously posted on Tumblr. Please enjoy and feel free to leave comments or suggestions :)





	1. Shades of His Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song: Into Yellow by Martin Luke Brown

He awoke. Stumbling, sputtering, sobbing, into this world. He trudged through the strange expanse of the foreign land, eyelids hanging heavy with the sorrows of a time long forgotten. Shadows of a once great people ushered past him, lips stiffly formed the words of a broken language, sang praises to deaf gods. The world swallowed him, folded him up in the strangeness of itself. He moved, hands perched cautiously before him, moving blindly through a world void of color. Stiff legs carried him through the sludge of existence, carried him ever forward to a future that had turned a blind, ignorant eye to the past. He sought to return color to a world which he had ignorantly painted grey. His people were once so vibrant, existing between the shades of the earth and the shades of the sky, uttering precious words that painted the world around them in an array of colors as diverse as the people. What he would give to witness the beauty once more, to not stumble through a world that warped colorlessly around him.

She awoke. Curiously, confused, caged in a body that no longer belonged to her. Accusations and duties shackled themselves to her ankles, anchoring her to the grey of the stone when she wished to frolic in the green of the forest. A world that once exploded with the vibrancy of love and culture bled out, leaving nothing behind but a colorless vein. In its place, grey shadows cast upon grey walls escorted her through a grey existence. She tried to reach out, to defiantly pull the color back into her world, but was swiftly dragged back into the pit of perfectly calculated movements. She held no authority over her tongue, held no power over her actions, she was a puppet jerking violently on strings before a crowd of unamused beings. How she wished to paint her world with the colors of her childhood, how everything existed in vibrant shades that were impossible to mimic. How she wished to banish the grey.

They met. Hurriedly, happily, hazy forms in a void that sought to swallow them whole. She existed before him in a manner that he had yet to encounter, as if she were a defiant flower that refused to bow to the bite of winter. Shades of yellow erupted from her, a brightly colored light that she was unable to see for herself. They reached for each other, curious fingertips brushed each other, softly at first. A world that had barely existed began to flare with the vivid color of molten gold. The warmth of the color enveloped them, then the warmth of each other’s arms, then the warmth of lips upon lips. Their lives swelled with the newness of love, with the remembrance of a life that was once lost, and the world around them sighed contentedly.

He left. Brazenly, broken, bound back out into a world that carelessly engulfed him. Nightmares of the past gnawed at his consciousness while he wrestled with sleepless nights. He found himself looking down at the source of color in his life while she peaceful slept in the familiarity of his arms. It was then that he decided to leave the vivid world she had painted for him, to brave the wild expanse of grey that existed outside of their walls. He sought to restore the world to its original color, he longed to see her eyes grow in wonder at the beauty that had existed before. The breeze carried him from her arms, and she floated in a fickle world once more. She refused to let the world see her break, she turned a sure face to the sun and carried on. While the colors of her world bled in his absence, they never shifted to the void that once was. She now existed in a world of blue, a world that was once touched, and forever changed, by him.

 


	2. Bumping Into Eachother

The court buzzed around Zarina’s ears, ringing in an unfamiliar tone. It had been only a few weeks since Zarina had been whisked from the comforts of her clan and the forest, ultimately being thrust into a world that glittered with pomp and vanity. The walls sparkled with gold inlay, and long passed nobles hung in heavily jeweled frames, staring down their noses at the newcomer. Many had gathered at court to witness the new princess that was set to marry Prince Sebastian, but few had offered a friendly hand to the young elf. Zarina felt as if she were a rare animal, brought to be admired and prodded by curious eyes. The ceremony of it all made her sick, she had refused to eat and often confined herself to her room. The kind faces of her advisor, Josephine, and guard, Alistair, were the only ones she allowed herself to remember. The rest of court was but a blur, a smudge on the painting that was her life.

A particularly blustery morning found Zarina wandering the halls of the castle, hand protectively nestled in the thick fur coat of Elgar, her large white wolf. The vast castle unnerved him as much as Zarina, the cold marble floors felt foreign under his massive paws, causing him to stalk reluctantly through the halls. Elgar refused to leave his masters side, despite the new surroundings. At night, he would wrap himself around the elf as if shielding her from the unfamiliarity of the castle. The past couple of nights he had awoken Zarina with sleepy whimpers, and she wondered if he dreamed of running through the forest as often as she did. The young elf had discovered a mural on one of the walls in a secluded part of the castle, a vast painting of a forest, the trees brimming with dainty blue birds. The mural had drawn her in, she could smell the pine and feel the grass under her feet once more, and she knew that she had to visit it again.

Rounding the corner, the mural spread in front of her on the adjacent wall, calling her home. Her feet moved without her thinking, and she reached out to trace the branches of the trees. The vast braches expanded farther than a grown Qunari’s wingspan. She followed the branches with her fingers as if tracing her way on a map. From branch to branch, leaf to leaf, she imagined herself bounding through the forest, racing the halla back to the clan, Elgar challenging her to run quicker with an unrelenting howl. The painting seemed to draw her in, the branches reached out and wrapped around her heart, all she needed to do was run-

_ Oof _ . She had forgotten that she was still a caged bird, and her wandering mind had caused her to run into a person. She found herself flat-bottomed on the marble floor, Elgar sniffing her protectively. Golden eyes looked up to the person she had run to, wondering if she could muster an apology to a shem, but instead she was met with the vision of a disgruntled elf. He was tall and slender, with defined facial features. Sharp blue eyes narrowed at her, held her gaze for a moment, then softened. A smile began teasing at the curve of his lips.

“I, uh-“ Zarina looked up in awe, unable to stop the words fumbling clumsily from her mouth. The elf was dressed in a simple brown smock, which seemed to be covered in green paint, a brown jug was in one hand while a paintbrush was balanced in the other.

“Oh gods, oh gods I am so sorry!” Zarina brought herself to her feet, realizing that she had caused him to spill paint all over the front of his frock. A light-hearted chuckle escaped the male elf as he assessed himself, he bent to place his tools on the marble floor.

“That’s quite alright, although I’m not sure how the Prince will feel about the green paint staining his marvelous floors.” Pools of green had splattered around them, Elgar’s shiny nose curiously sniffed at one, then snorted with disapproval.

“My name’s Solas, I don’t believe we’ve met.” The elf used a spare rag to clean his hands, then offered one to Zarina. His hands seemed smooth and well kept, Zarina accepted his handshake and found that he gripped hers daintily, as if he were cradling a lotus flower.

“I’m Zarina.” The blush in her cheeks blurred the appearance of her freckles as she shyly relinquished her name.

“Ah, you must be the Princess.” Solas seemed to retreat at this realization, recoiling his hands to rest respectfully behind his back.

“Yes, that’s right.” The two held each other’s gaze, Solas seemed to be searching her eyes for an explanation, for some reason as to why she was wandering a part of the castle few visited. He must have been satisfied with whatever answer he found searching her golden orbs because his posture relaxed once more.

“It’s almost lunch time, you should probably head back to the kitchen.” He knelt to one knee to pick up his tools once more, a precise stroke of his brush transformed into another leaf.

“You’re probably right.” Zarina’s hand grasped Elgar’s scruff as she began to retreat from the hallway. “I love your painting, by the way.” She called back over her shoulder, her eyes prying for a final glance at the strange elf. She wasn’t quite sure, but she thought she could make out a smile spread across his lips.


	3. "You have something in your hair"

Dark clouds hung heavily over the castle grounds, making their presence known with low groans of disapproval followed by quick bursts of light. The courtyard below was swollen from the weight of the rain water, causing small currents of water to shift erratically, carrying newly planted flowers and loose dirt on its back. There hadn’t been a storm like this in ages. Zarina remembered how her fiancée’s words were spoken with disbelief, yet quickly taken over by another groan uttered from the storm. The rainy morning had found the pair in a rare form of intimacy, Zarina was pressed up against the window with Sebastian sprawled out on the velvet couch. Sebastian’s eyes never wavered from Zarina’s form, they followed her lips to her cup of tea, mimicked Zarina’s fingertips as she traced senseless patterns on the fogged windowpane, followed the curious curl of her fiery hair. The weight of his gaze fell heavy on Zarina, and she found herself pressed ever closer to the window in an attempt to relieve the pressure built between them. She knew he meant well, knew he just wanted to reach out to her once and she not retract from his touch, but she didn’t know how to tell him she didn’t want the same. Perhaps this was all good politics, thrust two strangers into a marriage pact and hope they don’t fall in love with each other. Couples are much easier to break apart when they exist far from the other’s heart. An intense heat settled on the back of Zarina’s neck, either from the stiff collar that continuously reminded her of her horrible posture or from Sebastian’s unrelenting gaze.  

“I really should get back to my studies.” She stood abruptly, her body so rigid that she almost lost her balance. Nervous fingers wrung at the lace belt that constricted her waist as apprehensive eyes searched Sebastian’s weathered face. He studied her, the heat of his eyes passed over her freckles, the curve of her lips, the space of flesh where eyebrows should grow. A shroud of insecurity washed over the freckled elf, and she diverted her eyes from the human.

“Andraste blessed me with a studious wife.” The words left Sebastian’s lips in a form of sincerity, but fell on Zarina’s ears with a patronizing flair. “I’ll call Alistair and have him escort you to Solas’ study.”

* * *

 

            Solas resided within a multi-colored brick tower on the edge of the court grounds. Inside, the brick walls were lined with thickly bound books and curious oddities watching from over-crowed shelves. The tutor quickly ushered Zarina and Alistair in from the bellowing storm, offering the pair blankets spun of ram’s fur and tea that smelled of earth. Alistair plucked a blanket from the elf’s hands, wrapped it around his shoulders, and settled on the couch in a flurry of disapproving grumbles.

“Can I offer you anything, Princess?” His voice floated over the heavy air with ease, the cadence of his words seemed to mimic a lullaby. The elven princess had tucked herself among the books, fingertips traced the spine of ancient tomes. A retracted finger revealed that none of the books had gathered dust, meaning that either Solas was a diligent cleaner or made sure to frequent each book he possessed. Zarina believed the latter. Her gaze was broken by the settling of his words, and she turned towards him, arms instinctually crossed across her body.

“No, thank you.” A moment passed between them, their eyes rested on each other, his irises danced with hers. How could a moment shared with both her fiancée and tutor produce different outcomes? Sebastian had a warmth about him, but his intentions settled uncomfortably within the pit of her stomach. Solas existed before her like winter’s first snow, serene, almost sacred. Something that called for you to ruin the untouched surface, but an internal tug held you back, leaving you to relish in the purity of it with flushed cheeks.

“Well,” Solas called an end to the moment with a sigh, a strong hand reached to anxiously rub the back of his neck. “I suppose we should see to your studies.”

Zarina seated herself at a table tucked in the curve of the tower as she watched her tutor stroll from one book shelf to another, hands clasped behind his back showing that he was in deep thought. Every so often a hand would stray from the other, reach for a bound book, examine the cover, and would either return the book to the others or stow it in the crook of his other arm. Zarina watched his shirt tighten across his shoulders as he reached for a book nestled on the top shelf, a flush of color washed over her cheeks. After a thorough sweep was conducted of his collection, Solas returned with a towering stack of books. Gently placing the balanced stack on the weathered table in front of Zarina, he retreated a few steps, as if he were presenting an offering to an unpredictable god.

Zarina’s amber eyes searched his blue orbs, when no further cues could be gathered from her tutor she turned to the stack of books. She picked a tome from the top of the stack, a hefty reader bound in red leather forced her to use both hands to prevent it from slipping out of her grasp. A castle stood proudly on the cover, embossed with gold, the title bore a similar appearance, read _Castles of Thedas and Those who Inhabit Them_. Zarina failed to conceal a grimace that spread across her face. Dainty hands reached for the next book, this one thinner, but consisted of the same gold inlay. _The Men who Conquered the World_.

_Theorists of Thedas_. _Manners Maketh Women: A Guide for Noblewomen_. _Ships: How the Sail do they Work?_ A frustrated sigh escaped Zarina, and she slammed a book onto the top of the table. A disapproving snore broke the silence between Solas and Zarina, and both looked to the couch were a sleeping Alistair had dashed off his soaked boots and was now engulfed by the blanket Solas had given him.

“There has to be something besides this garbage.” Zarina leaned across the scatted titles, eyes narrowed at Solas. She knew that she was to be educated in _shemlen_ culture, but all the lessons had begun to meld together, settling uncomfortably in the back of her brain. Solas gazed down at her with eyes wide in shock, then a soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Mindful hands moved to restack the books that Zarina had pilfered through, once finished with his task he shifted to move the books into an unoccupied chair.

“If you insist, Princess.” Solas made his way behind the seated elf, a faint trail of earthen musk followed him. The tutor balanced himself on tip toes, then swept his hand over the top of the bookshelf until it found his target. A soft ‘ _Ah’_ escaped his lips as he found himself satisfied with his findings. Dust circled the air around them in mindless patterns as he dragged the book from the top of the shelf, settling his finding in front of the flustered Princess, then moved back once more, hands resting stoically behind his back. Zarina peered down at the massive text. The color of the bindings were barely visible under the thick layer of dust that had accumulated, with a finger Zarina was able to uncover the beautiful earthen shade that protected the insides. The title was etched meticulously on the cover, as if the author had been mindful in its creation.

_Untold Legends of the Dalish Clans_. Zarina traced the title in disbelief, then quickly pushed the cover back to explore the contents of the tome. Her eyes ran quickly over each page, unsure of where to begin. Illustrations of forests and animals were penned next to verses, some of them in her native tongue. Hurried fingertips traced the lines of the creatures, of the text, as if she were able to consume more of the tome in that manner.

“Does the Princess approve?” Solas’ voice flittered lightly over the air once more, and Zarina looked up into his beaming face. She had never seen her tutor express his emotions so openly before, and she found it hard to look away from him. His full lips were pulled up, causing wrinkles around his twinkling eyes. His aura could have been enough to usher the pressing storm away.

“This is…thank you.” Her tongue was unable to form words of gratitude, but she hoped it translated better through her eyes. Solas’ smile softened, not as wide as before, but still noticeable, and his orbs took the she elf in.

“Princess…” He started, then pulled the words back in his throat. Zarina eyed him curiously, giving him a chance to finish.

“You just, you have dust in your hair.” An unsure hand reached out to her, delicate fingers moved through her hair, lingering long enough that Zarina’s breath caught in her lungs. His fingers moved to stroked through her copper curls once more, and Zarina felt her lungs burst in their bony confines. Solas’ face grew serious, his eyes flittered across her features, fingers twirled the end of a wayward curl.

_If only_. The wish buried itself within Zarina’s aching chest. 


End file.
